Two Casualties
by seilleanmor
Summary: Knockout fic. Assuming Josh is out of the picture, there's another way they could have channelled their anger during that fight.
1. Chapter 1

_Falling in love with you_

_was like being tossed off a building: I landed face-first._

_And just like the evening news,_

_there were two casualties._

_**Meggie Royer, **__**The First Time**_

* * *

**Two Casualties**

* * *

It is five days before Kate Beckett cracks.

Flying back to New York City from Los Angeles, she had allowed herself to feel suspended in time. Outside of anywhere, safe in first class with Castle sleeping next to her. It gave her both the time and the impetus she needed to dwell on her mentor's words. Above the clouds, there was no one to pass judgement on the shitty job that apparently everyone thinks she's doing with her life.

Royce was with her at the precinct for a handful of days, but it was enough for him to see both that she is pathetically in love with Castle and that the prospect of doing anything about it sends terror rattling through her so hard she can feel her bones clashing together.

And then they landed, and for five days the spectre of her mentor's words loomed over her, toxic and suffocating. A quiet, somnolent sort of hum that burst into crescendo the moment Josh's mouth touched hers. _If only if only if only_ pounding so hard in her bloodstream it turned her guts to liquid, made her push out of her boyfriend's grip and brace herself against the kitchen counter.

He had settled a too-cool palm between the stark wings of her shoulder blades and dipped down to rest his mouth at her ear, murmuring to her. _Katie, what's wrong_ and he's sweet, he's a good guy but still it made her bristle.

Made her brave, too. Gave her the courage to turn to him. _I can't do this anymore_.

_It's him, isn't it?_ Because of course he's known. She assumes that it had been enough for him, being the one who got to share her bed. He had never seemed to care that she shared her days and her heart and a good deal of her laughter with another man.

For that, she's grateful. He made it so easy for her to be selfish, made it so that it is almost nothing at all to peel him away from her heart. It had seemed cruel to lie; she had been careful to meet his eyes for the end. _Yes. Him. I'm sorry. _

There'd been a nod, and then a last, desperate kiss as Josh drank from her mouth and she did all she could to at least give it back to him. She owed him that much. He left, and the emptiness clutched at her.

Even though she'd known it was coming for a while, it had still hurt to watch him gather up the meagre collection of things he had at her apartment and leave her, standing there at the kitchen island struggling for breath.

She didn't tell Castle. Josh has been the only thing holding him off, his respect for her choice to be with Doctor Motorcycle Boy somehow outweighing how much he wants her. Because he does, she sees it. She's not an idiot.

With Josh around, Castle has been somewhat restrained and so it has been easy to ignore both how he feels for her and how desperately she yearns to have him. Only now, Josh is gone. And there's nothing to stop her falling right into it with Castle.

Except this case. Her mom's case, rearing its ugly head and taunting her again.

Kate paces; the protective detail is glaring obvious outside of her window and she has to force herself not to look every time she passes by. The blinds are open in her living room and through the slats she watches the rush of life through the veins of the city beneath her.

A knock at the door startles her so hard she bites on her tongue and she rips herself away from her sentry post, snagging her gun from the counter top before she heads for her front door. Through the peephole, she sees that it's Castle and her heart thrashes wildly in her chest.

She's strong, she can handle herself, but the little girl in her wants to fall into his embrace and beg him to save her. And maybe she can, in a way. But first she has to open the damn door.

"Can I come in?" He says, quiet and unassuming.

For a moment, Kate remembers the time he showed up with flowers and carefully didn't mention the slippery tear tracks painting her cheeks. "Yeah"

"So, we went over all of Raglan and McAllister's old arrest records and you were right, there was a third cop that was with them on a lot of those arrests." He's in the middle of her living room already, somehow, and here she is flipping closed the third deadbolt on her door. It's New York City, and obviously it pays to be cautious, but this is a little much even for her.

Kate heads towards him, her gun in one hand, and lets him talk. "But then someone went back into those reports and removed their name. So Ryan and Esposito are right now looking into who was running the records room back then."

"Castle, you couldn't have just called me and told me this over the phone?" She manages to grit out, her mouth tasting like ash. She knows exactly what this is. A one-man intervention, a desperate plea for her not to slip down into the gaping maw of the rabbit hole.

Only, she's teetering right on the precipice, she wants to yell at him. If he pushes, even just a little, she won't be able to keep her balance.

"Well yeah. . .I thought that-" He's stuttering, his face ripe with a compassion that feeds the vicious anger in her gut. Suddenly she is _pissed_. At him, at herself, at her whole fucking life. This isn't how it's supposed to be, isn't at all how she pictured her future when she was young and her mom was still alive.

A scream ripples in the base of her throat and she sighs instead, refuses to bleed out in front of him. "Castle if you got something to say just please say it."

His face hardens against her and he shifts his weight, hesitation carved into every line of him like an age old truth. And really, hasn't it always been this way? Castle too scared to call her out on anything, and she so relieved at not having to spill her guts that she never offers anything up to him voluntarily.

"Beckett, everyone associated with this case is dead. Everyone. First your mom and her colleagues, then Raglan, then McAllister. You know they're coming for you next."

"Captain Montgomery's got a protective detail on me. Wasn't that hard to spot." She shrugs, heading for the window. To check on the detail, yes, but also because she really needs to not be looking at him right now. Absolutely doesn't trust herself if she has to meet his eyes for this.

His eyes are hot on her, tripping along the length of her spine, and she sets her gun down on the end table next to her couch before turning to him again. The vulnerability of _not _seeing him is so much worse than the alternative, she's quickly realising.

"That's not gonna be enough to stop Lockwood, you know that. Think about what they're up against, professional killers? Look I've been working with you for three years, you know me. I'm the guy who says we can move that rubber tree plant but you know what Beckett? I don't think we're gonna win this."

He's somehow closer to her, those few careful steps not nearly enough to breach the chasm between them, but yes. Definitely enough to make her nervous.

Anger flares, hot and all-consuming, and it's all she can do not to let it swallow her whole. "Castle, they killed my mother. What do you want me to do here?"

"Walk away."

Her mouth opens but absolutely nothing comes out, incredulity gagging her as she stares at him. Has he lost his damn mind? He knows what this case does to her, how vitality important it is that she pour all of herself into it. She _can't_ walk away. Not from her mother.

"They're gonna kill you, Kate. And if you don't care about that, at least think about how that's gonna affect the people that love you. You really wanna put your dad through that? And what about Josh?"

"And what about you, Rick?" She fires back at him. The rage is snarling in the pit of her stomach now, pushing at her to push _him_. See if he'll be truthful for once.

And okay, thank you. She knows it's not fair to do this to him when he thinks she's still with Josh. But she wants to hear it. Wants him to admit what they have, because God knows she can't do it herself.

"Well of course I don't want anything to happen to you. I'm your partner. I'm your friend."

"Is that what we are?" Guilt and grief war for her attention but she holds them carefully back, projects an exterior that is almost deadly in its calm. It's not fair of him to put this all on her. She's not the only one who holds things back, damn it.

It seems to have gotten to him; he sets his face against her and sucks in a breath, squaring his shoulders as if preparing for battle. "You know what? I don't know _what_ we are. We kiss, but we never talk about it. We nearly die, frozen in each other's arms but _we never talk about it_. So no, I got no clue what we are. I know I don't wanna see you throw your life away."

"Yeah well last time I checked it was _my_ life, not your personal jungle gym. And for the past three years I've been running around with the school's funniest kid, and it's not enough." She spits at him, rage frothing up and it's so bitter, so not at all what she wanted when she opened the door to him.

He looks pissed, and she can't remember him ever looking that way before. Not at her. Kate stalks away from him, towards the door, her heart trembling like a captive bird and the rest of her body quickly following suit.

"You know what? This isn't about your mother's case anymore." His words make her falter on her way to throwing him out, a strangely blissful sort of calm washing over her. Like the eye of the storm. "This is about you needing a place to hide, because you've been chasing this thing so long you're afraid to find out who you are without it."

"You don't know me, Castle. You think you do, but you don't." Even as she says it, she knows that it's total bullshit. Of course he knows her; no one else has ever come close to seeing the spill of raw truth out of her in the way that he has.

He's stalking towards her again and for a tremulous moment Kate thinks he might touch her. When he stops a couple feet away she has to slam the lid down on her disappointment so it doesn't unravel across her face for him to see.

"I know you crawled inside your mother's murder and didn't come out. I know you hide there, same way you hide in these nowhere relationships with men you don't love. You could be happy, Kate. You deserve to be happy, but you're afraid."

"Josh and I broke up, you asshole." She spits at him, her fists rhythmically clenching and relaxing at her sides. God, she _hates_ him.

And yes, okay, she loves him. So much that it makes her hate him even more.

He looks surprised, takes a stumbling step backward and stares at her. "You- you did? When?"

"After LA." She scowls, wanting to shove at him. Wanting to throw him out, but she doubts he'd leave her. Not now. "I wasn't being fair to him."

There's maybe a half second of total stillness and then Castle's hands are either side of her face, his grip tight but not at all unpleasant. Staring down at her, he opens his mouth but says nothing at all. She watches his thoughts swim in his eyes, watches him decide _fuck it_ and then his mouth is crashing down against hers.

Arching up onto tiptoe, Kate bites into his kiss and pushes the length of her body against his, refusing to let him bend her backward. Like hell is she submitting. His tongue slicks into her mouth and he groans, his hand palming her ass to drag her hips against his.

Kate tears her mouth away from his and gasps for breath, staring at the kiss-smudged invitation of his mouth. One hand still kneading her ass, Castle ghosts the fingertips of the other over her cheekbone and carves out a moment of tenderness.

Right now, she can't do tender. Can't do love. She just wants to fuck him.

It's probably a terrible idea. There's no way he'll let them not talk about it, not after the conversation still ringing in her ears. And it's not like fucking him is going to give either of them any clarification as to what they are. But she doesn't care.

Going for his mouth again, Kate shoves his jacket off of his shoulders and throws it towards the couch, bruising him with the force of her kiss. His hand comes away from her ass and she moans in protest, but then he's peeling her shirt up, up, right over her head and coming back to kiss her again as he fumbles with her bra.

When he gets it unhooked and peels it off of her she thinks he might stop, might try to take her in, but he doesn't. Instead he's palming her breasts, pinching at her nipples and it's all so much harder, more aggressive than she'd expect from him but _fuck_ if it isn't completely doing it for her anyway.

Kate takes either side of his shirt collar in her fists and yanks, ripping the whole thing open and sending buttons flying everywhere. They clatter all over her hardwood and Castle rips his mouth away from hers, whining at her. "I liked that shirt."

"Shut the fuck up." She growls, shoving the ruined scrap of material off his shoulders and arching so her breasts flatten against his chest, bare skin to bare skin and it's so fucking good she might come apart right here.

Castle's hands clutch at her hips and he spins them around, walking her backwards towards the kitchen island. He pops the button of her jeans and drags down her zipper, his hand inside of her underwear so fast she barely has time to draw breath in preparation.

Three years, she's imagined him touching her, and now his fingers are quick and intoxicating through the slick heat of her and he's choking her name into the curve of her neck, biting down at the thunder of her pulse. "Fuck, Kate. You're so fucking wet."

He strokes a finger over her clit and she chokes out a sob, palming the hard bulge of him in retaliation. Even through his jeans, it makes him falter and he groans, loud and entirely unashamed. He's still sucking on her neck and the dual sensation of that and his fingers teasing her makes her head swim, takes her close to the edge.

When he pulls his hands free from her pants she doesn't even have time to voice a protest before he yanks them down her hips, two fingers hooked into her underwear to bring them with her jeans. Both garments pool at her feet and she steps out of them, gloriously naked and entirely unashamed in front of him.

Castle growls, something low and vicious all in his throat and then he's shoving his own pants and boxers down, toeing his way out of his shoes and shoving the whole mess of their entwined clothing out of the way. He kisses her again, hard and desperate and it's so fucking good to have him like this.

His erection presses against her stomach and Kate grins, letting it spread slowly across her face as she wraps her fingers around him. He jerks, kissing the smirk right off of her face and dropping his hand back between her legs. For a desperate moment, she thinks he's finally going to push his fingers inside of her, but he's careful not to let the rocking motion of her hips distract him from rubbing hard at her clit.

"Turn around." He grunts against her cheek, and she doesn't hesitate. Turning away from him, she lets him crowd her up against the counter and braces both palms flat against it, choking out a gasp at the feeling of his body right up against her back.

She feels ragged, torn open, and then he slides inside of her and all the scattered edges of her fear and panic and guilt coalesce into this one perfect, blissful moment. "Oh fuck, Kate."

Sucking in a desperate lungful of air through her teeth, Kate pushes her ass backwards against the cradle of his hips and grunts when he sinks even deeper inside of her. His hands come between her body and the counter, rolling her nipple between the pads of his fingers with one and splaying the other wide at her stomach to keep her somewhat still as he thrusts.

It's hard and filthy and he's chanting her name against the sweaty skin of her neck and she's sure her hipbones are already blooming with haematomas like a purpling sky, but she really doesn't care. It has never, even been like this for her before.

So fucking good; already she's shaking with it. Kate turns her head and catches his bottom lip between her teeth, tugging at him. He's smiling into their kiss even as he fucks her against her kitchen counter and honestly? She's not even surprised. Of course it would be like this.

"How close are you?" He grunts, taking her earlobe in his mouth and sucking at the tender flesh.

Shivering, Kate manoeuvres until she can rest her weight on one forearm, her head bowed as she snakes her other hand down to stroke over her clit. Her fingertips brush Castle and he grunts out a curse, her eyes slamming closed at the sensation.

The coil of release tightens low down in her belly and Kate growls, half wishing she could see his face. Panting hard, she turns her head to see a shard of his face and grins at him, brushing a kiss to the hard edge of his jaw. "Really fucking close."

He beams at her, bringing his other hand up so he's cupping both of her breasts and dropping his mouth to her neck again. "I want you to come. Right now. Come for me, Kate."

The release is suffocating, washing over her and dragging her right down so she can't do anything more than jerk against him, her body a marionette with the strings cut. He follows right along behind her, groaning a litany of curses threaded through with her name until he collapses half on top of her, pinning her to the counter.

"Holy shit." He laughs, their skins sweat-slick and plastered together. Somehow, he still has the strength to stand up and he does so, smiling softly at her when she turns to face him.

There's half a beat of silence and then he cups her cheek in his palm and leans in to kiss her, soft and gentle and so tender she almost wants to cry. "Castle. . .you understand, don't you? Why I can't walk away from this?"

"I know. I know, Kate. I just don't want you to die." He chokes out, burying his face in the crease of her neck. For a fleeting moment, she thinks perhaps it shouldn't be so fitting that they're having the most honest conversation of their relationship so far while standing naked in her kitchen.

And then she feels the pooling warmth of tears at her collar bone and cradles the back of his head, fingers carding through his hair to gentle him. "I'm being safe. I won't die."

"You don't _know_ that." He moans, pulling away so he can kiss her again. It's desperate, somehow more so than when he was inside her.

She hates herself for it, but she can't promise him she won't risk her life for her mother's justice. And she prays he won't ask her to choose, won't ask her to make that decision. Because she won't choose him. "Maybe you should go home."

"Are you throwing me out?" He chokes, his grip bruising at her biceps.

Kate arches up to kiss him again, tries to gentle him with the touch of her mouth. "No, I just think we both need to get some sleep."

"We could sleep here. Together." She raises an eyebrow at him, purses her lips and he manages a breath of laughter. "Right. That's dumb."

Yeah. If he stays, they're not going to get a lot of sleep. He dresses quickly, zipping his jacket closed to hide his ruined shirt, and Kate tugs on her own shirt and her underwear, not bothering with her pants. He kisses her softly at the door, stepping over the threshold and then leaning back in to kiss her one more time, like he can't ever have enough.

"I'll call you." He promises, and then he heads down the hall for the elevator and Kate closes her door, resting her forehead to the wood.

Shit. _Shit_. What has she done?

* * *

**A/N: This is a three shot. I think.**

**Tumblr:** katiehoughton

**Twitter:** seilleanmor


	2. Chapter 2

**Two Casualties**

* * *

Twenty three missed calls.

Really, she didn't mean for it to get to this point. When she woke up this morning, her body aching in a way it hasn't done for a while, she had stumbled bleary-eyed into the shower. Still feeling the virulent spread of his touch all over her.

She dressed quickly, careful to avoid the mirror. So she wouldn't have to see the bloom of purpling bruises at her hips, her stomach. And then she had messaged him, asked him to stay away from the precinct today. Fobbed him off with some half-hashed excuse that she doesn't want him getting dragged down into this case.

And that's true, it is, she wants him to be safe. But more than that she wants not to have to face what they've done. Not now. Rationally, she knows that she'll have to talk it out with him at some point. But she can't do both, can't juggle her mother's case and her relationship - partnership, something – with Castle. She has to let one of those things drop, and they both know it's not going to be her mother.

Even so, he's been calling her all day. She declines his call again, cutting off the abrasive ring of her phone mid-note. She wants to tug the sleeves of her black turtleneck down over her hands, curl up inside it like armour. Instead, she pushes them up to her elbows and returns her attention to the files spread around her.

There are four other chairs pulled up in a circle around her desk with papers spread out over them, every detail of this case surrounding her. Ryan had made a joke about hoping none of their colleagues felt like sitting down today that no one had laughed at, and everyone had carefully avoided mentioning that Castle's chair is empty. As if some subconscious part of her is still hoping that he'll show up to fill it.

The boys are muttering to each other; she sees them both turn to glance at her. She can't find the energy to care that they think she's falling apart. Can't do anything to convince them otherwise. When they stand up she falters, holding her breath as she waits to see if they're coming to talk to her.

They're not. Instead, they head away from the bullpen and Kate releases a long breath, the relief nearly choking her.

Her phone rings again and Kate rolls her eyes, turning back to fish it out from underneath a file. She half wants to answer it, yell at him to stop calling and that they'll talk when this case is done and can he please just leave her alone?

Only it's not Castle calling. It's her captain.

* * *

Carrying the woman he loves out of the aircraft hangar and away from their captain, Rick feels his heart cracking open along the fault lines that settled in the first time he saw Kate cry over her mother's case. Their captain, their mentor, their _friend_. Roy is martyring himself right in front of them, and betrayal slicks hot and metallic through him like blood, something strange and wrong about it.

Having Kate's body pressed up along the lines of his should be a blessing; instead the grief guts him and it's all he can do to stay standing himself. _Rick, please_, she chokes, but there's no way he's letting her go. Not to run back in there and get herself killed.

He can't save Roy, can't erase the man's terrible history, but he can do this. Make sure that Montgomery's sacrifice is not for nothing. That Kate lives.

She's sobbing in his arms, her ragged desperation spilling out of her mouth and he begs her, backs her up against her car and pleads with her to be quiet. If the men inside the hangar hear her, they are both dead. He covers her mouth with his hand, wrenches it away again almost immediately because even here, even now he cannot bring himself to gag her.

Smoothing her hair back and out of the salt-slick tears that dive for the precipice of her jaw, he cradles her elbows as she sags against him and does his best to hold her. Both up and together.

_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry_ he breathes in a litany and, thank God, it quiets her. The raw, unbridled mix of terror and grief seems to weave its threads between them, binding him to her so closely that he knows if she were to move away it would rip him wide open, leave him vulnerable and exposed.

Her hand is at his cheek as if to make sure he's here and he wants to promise her all kinds of things, wants to say he'll never leave her again if only she'll have him. With every gunshot she jerks against him, her keening like a wounded animal and he pushes closer still, tries to let the warmth of his body bleed some strength into her.

_It's okay, it's okay, I'm so sorry_.

There's a moment of absolute stillness where Kate leans back against the car as if exhausted, her body trembling in his grip. And then a final shot, and she's breaking away from him to run for the hangar. Rick hesitates a moment, but the further she gets from him the less he can bear it.

No choice but to follow. He finds her bent over the body of their fallen captain, her tears soaking into Roy's shirt to mix with the blood. So much blood, the sharp smell of iron jars Castle and he sinks to his knees at Kate's side, curling his fingers around her shoulder.

She comes willingly, falling into his side and choking out a sob into the crease of his neck. Rick manoeuvres so he can gather as much of her as possible against him, carding his fingers through her hair over and over and pressing his mouth to her temple.

As soon as she catches her breath, she calls it in to the precinct, her voice catching on the phrase _officer down_. After she hangs up she presses her face into his shirt, her hands fisted at his shoulder blades.

"Kate-" he starts, trailing off as he realises there isn't a single thing he could possibly do to help her. Not right now.

Easing away from her just a little, he tries to get a look at her face and she whimpers, clutching at him harder still. "Please don't let go of me. Castle. Please."

"Okay, okay, I'm not. I won't. I'm here. I got you." He murmurs to her, his chin against the crown of her head. She's so small all of a sudden, curled up in his arms and he wants to get her out of here. Right now. "Let's wait outside. We shouldn't contaminate the scene any more than we already have."

He gets to his feet as slowly as his knees will let him, bringing her up with him and holding her close a moment before he has to let her go. Her fingers are cool and slender in his when he takes her hand and he walks with her out of the hangar, stupidly proud of both of them that they're even able to move.

In the distance, sirens wail and then the sickly red and blue wash of the gumball paints the scene and an officer is getting out of the car and heading towards them. Castle moves as if to step away from her, give her room to do her job and she clutches at his sleeve, glancing at him. "Stay."

"Okay."

It happens fast, and for that he's grateful. Tech process the scene; Ryan and Esposito show up and the four of them stand together and watch the body of their captain as he's zippered away from them and wheeled inside the bus.

And then they're allowed to go home.

Castle drives, not at all surprised that Kate barely reacts when he slides into the driver's side of her car. On the way back to her apartment she keeps her face pressed against the window, watching the hum of the city around them. He wants to reach out, take her hand, but she looks so brittle he's afraid he might break her if he tries.

When they make it inside he takes her jacket, hangs it up with his own. She toes out of her boots and steps into his embrace, the height difference between them palpable when he tucks her underneath his chin as if for safekeeping.

"I think I'm in shock." She murmurs, trembling in his grip. "I don't feel anything."

Gratitude washes over him like a sucking tide and he gasps a breath like drowning against her hair. He's so glad that the numbness has set in for her. He feels cataclysmic, as if his whole world is shifting beneath his feet. "What can I do?"

"Will you kiss me?" She asks him, shifting a half step back from him. Her arms stay looped around his waist and she stares up at him, her skin red and dry with the salt. For a moment, he debates the wisdom of doing this now.

But then, they are both desperate to reaffirm their lives. And God knows he needs her, badly. The woman he loves, and he has never been so grateful to have her near. He doesn't answer her question with words; instead he dips down and kisses her.

It's soft and exploratory and careful and everything yesterday wasn't. Castle licks at the ripeness of her bottom lip, asking for permission and she opens her mouth to him. He gets a hand at the curve of her spine, cradling the back of her head in his other palm, and Kate cups his cheek.

They're both still shaking, but now he's not sure if it's shock or the absolutely astonishing tenderness of her mouth against his. He gentles her with a few soft brushes of his lips over hers, settling his forehead against hers and somehow managing a smile for her.

"Come to bed with me." She says quietly, her eyes closed as though she's already preparing herself for the worst. Not that he thinks it could get much worse. Roy is dead.

He just wants to forget. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Please." She bites her lip, her eyes wide and imploring on his and he swallows hard, grabs for her hand. Of course. Of course. She doesn't ever have to plead with him, not for this. He needs it just as much as she does.

Neither of them says anything else and Kate uses his grip on her hand to lead him to her bedroom. It all seems so messed up. He's never been to her bedroom but they've had sex. They're not officially together but he's kissing her every chance he gets. He's in love with her but Montgomery is dead.

Once they make it over the threshold, Kate peels her turtleneck up over her head and tosses it onto the armchair near her bed. Her pants are next and then she stands in front of him in just her underwear, folding her arms over her stomach self-consciously.

It's so markedly different from how this was yesterday, when she was totally bare in front of him and completely confident. Castle tugs his clothes off as quickly as he can and strides towards her in just his underwear, banding an arm around her waist and kissing her deeply.

She lifts up into him, rocking her hips, and he cups her over top of her underwear, groaning at the feeling of the soaked fabric. It's reassuring, too. Knowing that she burns for him just as badly as he does for her.

And yes, he hates that their first time was off the back of the worst fight they've ever had and now this, their second time is going to be tarnished with the loss of their captain. But he needs her too much to make them stop.

"You're beautiful." He breathes against her cheek, skimming the back of his hand up her stomach and around to curve behind her neck.

Kate pushes her mouth to his in retaliation, her tongue hot and quick inside of his mouth and he grunts. When she pulls away, she touches two fingers to the bow of his lips and shakes her head, something close to an apology in her eyes. "Don't. I can't. . .not now."

He understands. She doesn't want endearments, can't possibly deal with the terrifying depth of his emotion right now. So he shuts up, kissing her the way he's always wanted to and unhooking the clasp of her bra to peel it off of her.

She palms him through his underwear and he groans, his hips jerking against hers. Obviously, it feels fucking incredible anyway. But the knowledge that it's Beckett like this with him, that they're finally doing this, is enough to bring him to his knees.

Walking her backward over to the bed, Castle lays her down underneath him and sucks her nipple into his mouth, delighting in the scattering of curses she lets out. Her hands fist in his hair and she yanks him upwards, his body settling in the cradle of her thighs as she kisses him.

"Take these off." She grunts, sliding her fingers inside of his underwear. He groans and struggles his way out of them, tossing them somewhere unseen and coming back to peel her own underwear down the sinful length of her gorgeous legs.

She pushes on his shoulder to roll him away from her and he goes willingly, spreading his palms at her ass when she leans over him. Her mouth blazes a scalding trail across his cheek until she meets his ear and then she's laughing at him, this throaty chuckle that makes him absolutely certain that if she doesn't climb into his lap within the next five seconds then he is going to die.

"Sit up."

He complies easily, leaning against her headboard and bending his knees a little, watching her as she devours him with her eyes. And then she slings a knee across his hips and wraps her fingers around him, sinking down before he even gets a chance to choke out her name.

Somehow, impossibly, being inside her is even better the second time around. She feels incredible, tight and hot and perfect and as she rocks in his lap he wraps his arms around her and holds her as close as he dares. Her forehead is settled in the crease of his neck and he cradles the curve of her skull, thrusting his hips up against hers until she moans and catches his skin between her teeth.

It's so slow, so gentle, and when she comes apart it's long and drawn out and she clenches hard around him, lifting her head to push her mouth to his. She keeps moving for him and he spills into her on a groan, trembling with it.

After they catch their breath, Kate reaches down and yanks the sheets up over them, shoving on him until he lies down and she can drape herself over him. He laughs, craning his neck at a ridiculously awkward angle until he can dust his mouth to her cheek. "Comfortable?"

"I can't believe he's gone, Castle." She breathes, a ripple of tension that he feels as acutely as if it were through his own body. "I can't believe. . ."

"I know."

There's nothing else he could possibly offer her and they both know it. Castle shifts so he can smooth one hand over her bicep, doing his best to gentle her. Roy is gone. But at least, he can't help but think. . .at least they have each other.

At least she's not here alone in her apartment, crying into her pillow as her heart splinters in her chest. At least he's not across town, drowning his sorrows and doing his best to avoid his mother's scrutiny. No, they're together, and there is not a chance in hell that he's letting her go.


	3. Chapter 3

**Two Casualties**

* * *

For ten days, Rick Castle refuses to let Beckett out of his sight.

Between the time of Montgomery's death and the morning of his funeral, Rick has spent only a handful of hours apart from her. She was adamant that he should spend time with his daughter, that he should go home.

The thought of her, alone and grieving in an empty apartment turned his stomach. And it took very little persuasion on his part to convince her to come to the loft with him. They haven't talked more about what this is between them; he still hasn't been brave enough to tell her that he loves her. But she's spent every night with her bare skin plastered to his and he has to hope that says enough for now.

Pacing in front of the coffee machine as he waits for the damned thing to just start working, God damn it, Castle vows to himself that he'll buy her a new one after today is over. Kate is still in her bedroom, having ushered him out to find a way to make himself useful.

They haven't spoken much since the night in the hangar. Fractured sentences offered up to each other like olive branches and a whole lot of silence. But even so, he's grateful. He had always thought, based on plentiful hard evidence, that Beckett wells her grief up inside and doesn't let it come spilling out until she reaches breaking point.

So yes, she hasn't spoken much with him. But she's clung tight to his hand, she's cried against his shoulder, she's curled into the warmth of his body in the bathtub. Not once has she tried to hide her grief, the ragged ache of her heart from him. Largely, he thinks, because he feels it too and she knows it.

The coffee machine finally, blessedly starts to work and Rick sinks onto a barstool in gratitude, bowing his head almost to the counter. Today, they bury their captain. It hasn't seemed to be a real, tangible thing yet. His loss. But after today there will be a grave to visit and tend to.

This limbo they've been ensnared in will let up. Proceedings will start to find a new captain. Life will go on, crime scene tape erected around the gaping hole of Roy's absence as a reminder to avoid it. Just. . .don't think about it.

From her bedroom, Kate appears dressed in her uniform and Castle's heart thrashes wildly, his mouth going dry at the sight of her. She looks so young, so vulnerable, nowhere close to the photograph that Royce showed him of a uniform-clad Beckett beaming at the camera.

Rick struggles upright and heads towards her, settling his hands at her biceps and tugging her in against him for a fierce embrace. His mouth finds her cheek and he kisses the hard edge of bone, stroking his fingers at the space between her shoulder blades like collecting cobwebs.

"Can you help me?" She murmurs, stepping away and then turning so he's met with the powerful strength of her spine. "Can't get my hair to stay."

"Yes, yeah." He rushes to agree, taking the cluster of bobby pins she passes him and securing the strands that escape from her bun. When he finishes she turns back and lifts up on tiptoe in her flat shoes, pushes her mouth to his.

"Thank you."

The coffee machine beeps at them and he falters, torn between wanting to fix her drink like everything's normal and wanting to hold her close to him forever. She solves the problem, taking his hand and drawing him with her over to the machine.

She fetches mugs and gestures for him to pour while she hunts around for milk, vanilla syrup. They fix their coffee together and stand, side by side leaning against her kitchen island to drink it. Kate nurses her drink slowly, both hands wrapped around the mug as if she's trying to leach some of its warmth for herself.

Carefully not looking at him, until the moment when she does. "Will you stand up there with me? When I give the eulogy."

"Of course. Of course I will, Kate." He gets out, grasping for her hand and squeezing too tight, he knows. But God help him, he loves her. He needs her.

Kate lets him have it for a moment and then she untangles herself from his grip, leaning in to kiss him almost as an apology. After today is over, Castle promises to himself, he'll tell her. She looks at him and she must see it all over his face, how desperately he loves her. He can't hide it from her. And then she turns away.

"We should go."

* * *

It has been years.

Well, no. It hasn't. It just feels that way.

He has been irrevocably damaged by watching Kate Beckett bleed out in his arms, changed in a way that should take centuries but in fact was done as quickly as Kate's body shut down in protest of the scalding metal that tunnelled its way through her chest.

With the woman he loves dying in his grip, Rick had let the raw truth of his heart spill out and offered her something to hold on to, even as the threads of unconsciousness wove around her and pulled her up into the cobalt mist of sky.

_Please don't leave me. I love you._

Rick is in the cafeteria, struggling through a cup of coffee that somehow, impossibly, tastes worse than the monkey pee and battery acid precinct combination he'd been subjected to in his first few weeks there. Largely to give Beckett's father a turn to keep watch over this woman they both love more than their own selves, some precious time alone with her even as she sleeps. In this, he feels a sort of desperate companionship with Jim. To be apart from her is unfathomable, torturous.

His phone vibrates against the table top and he snatches it up, accepts the call and pushes it to his ear, already standing up.

There's only one reason that Kate's father would call him. "She's awake?"

"Yes. Asking for you."

"I'm on my way." He chokes out. Halfway to the elevator, he gets diverted by the gift shop and heads there instead, somehow manages to pick out an enormous bunch of flowers without actually seeing anything at all. By the time he's made it to the front of the queue and paid for the bouquet he's trembling with anxiety, desperate to get to her.

In the corridor outside of her room, Rick hesitates and fixes his hair, tries to avoid seeing the rest of his reflection. He looks haggard, a wreck, but he has to be okay for her. He has to make her see that he meant it, what he said. That he loves her.

When he steps inside of the ward she looks up at him, tearing her gaze away from her father, and her whole face floods with light. Jim stands up and excuses himself, slips out of the room past Rick to give the two of them a little time alone. "Hey, Castle."

"Hey." He grits out, arrested by the sight of her. So damn beautiful, even like this. Even when he sees the hum of barely held back agony at the corners of her eyes. She's on the good drugs, the nurses said. Not really feeling it yet.

"You're staring at me. I must look really bad." She murmurs, lifting a hand to scratch her hairline and hide her face from him all at once.

He can't stop himself from blurting out the truth, his mouth apparently running without any sort of consent from the rest of him. "You're gorgeous. And I. . .never thought I'd see you again."

She doesn't say anything, but her cheeks pinken up. That same delicate flush he's seen when she's above him, beneath him, rolling her hips and gasping his name. Suddenly, he remembers the flowers in his hand and starts, heading towards her to set them down at her bedside. "I heard you were opening a flower store, so I thought I'd pitch in."

"They were all here when I woke up. I think they're mostly from the precinct." He wants to say _I know_. It was him that accepted most of the deliveries, him that arranged the dozens of bouquets around her so she'd see the bursts of vibrant colour when she opened her eyes, instead of the clinical steel and white of the hospital. "I don't think I'm gonna live this one down, Castle."

He chuckles, reaches for her hand where it rests, limp on top of the covers. Her fingers curl around his and he kisses her knuckles, has to swallow back the stupid rush of grateful tears. She's here; she's alive and joking with him. The least he can do is not cry right in front of her. "Oh, probably not."

She groans, but he knows it's false. Knows because he's been here, heard her cry out in pain while she slept. He knows what it sounds like when Kate is hurting, now. And he would give anything, do anything to return that knowledge. To protect her.

"You tried to save me."

"Yeah I uh-" He cuts himself off, stares at her. When he walked into her room and she didn't mention what he said, didn't mention that he _loves_ her, he had just assumed that she doesn't remember. "You remember me tackling you?"

"I remember all of it, Rick." She says it so quietly, as if that can diminish any of what it means. Here is where she tells him that she can't do this, can't love him back. That he has to go. "You love me."

"I. . .yes. I love you."

And then she smiles, wide and bright and beautiful and she curls her fingers in his collar, tugs at him until he shifts from his chair to sit on her bed, right beside her hip. Kate's other hand comes up to cradle his cheek and she leans in to him, kisses him with so much tenderness swelling between them.

He thought she wouldn't be ready to hear the truth of his heart. Not yet. But here she is, kissing him and smiling and looking at him like maybe, someday soon, she could feel it too. When she breaks away, she gentles him with the touch of her fingers to his jaw and smoothes her thumb over his bottom lip as if to erase the mess she's made of him.

"I'm really tired, right now." She murmurs, leaning back into her pillows and letting her eyes slip closed. "But please don't go."

"Where would I go?" He says, leaning in to kiss her cheek and then moving back into the chair by her bedside and cradling her hand in both of his.

The boys are at the precinct, battling their way through barrier after barrier to try and figure out who the hell did this to Beckett, but he wouldn't be useful there. He'd only mope, yearning to be close to her. And she needs him, even if she can't come right out and say it.

He's not going anywhere

* * *

"Hey there." Rick beams as he heads towards her and Kate cranes her neck to see him, pushes her sunglasses up to the top of her head.

Late August, and she can finally move with only a tug of awareness. No agony, no fire to ripple through her limbic system and leave her frozen in place and gasping. After six weeks of gruelling physical therapy at the best rehabilitation centre in the city (her father didn't say how he was managing to pay for it and she didn't ask) she came out to her family's cabin for the rest of her recovery.

A little over two months, now. Her father was here with her for the first couple of weeks, but then he went back to the city. So for a lot of the time, it's been her and Castle.

She wouldn't let him stay the whole time, wouldn't let him abandon his daughter and his mother and his life in the city. Fed him some excuse about needing him to keep her up to date with everything that was happening back in Manhattan. So they reached a compromise.

Castle has been driving up to the cabin each Friday morning and going home again late Sunday, and she's so grateful for it. Him. In the week, nothing to do but listen to the swell of communication between the crickets outside, she's been slowly going nuts.

Might have completely cracked if she didn't have Castle's visits each weekend like a beacon to hold on to. "Hey. You just get here?"

"I made lunch. It's inside if you want it." He says, coming to lie at her side on the blanket she spread out on the grass. Already the leaves are turning; she wanted to grab a hold of summer with both hands while she still could.

Kate turns in to him, sliding a hand under his shirt and to the bare skin of his abdomen. He looks delicious, in shorts and a t shirt, the hard edges of muscle in his calves and his biceps so inviting. "I don't want lunch. I want you."

"Kate." He breathes, holding her off with a hand splayed in the curve of her waist.

Damn it, Castle. She feels _good_, finally. Yes she's too thin, and yes the scars are still angry and red and all she sees in the mirror, but even so. She wants him. It's time for things to start to get back to normal. This Sunday, when he leaves, she's going back home with him.

Back to work, back to a world that's still slightly off-kilter, still tilting around Montgomery's absence, but nonetheless better than this.

"Rick." She says, her voice low and smoky in that way she knows he likes. He groans, his face crashing into her shoulder and his mouth opening against her skin. Kate sifts her fingers through his hair and grins, rolling onto her back to ease him down on top of her. "I'm okay. I'm strong enough. You're not going to break me."

"Are you sure?" He rests his weight on his elbows either side of her head, staring down at her and the lust is so rich on his face that for a moment she hardly recognises him. Wow. He's had to work harder than she thought to keep himself in check.

Arching her neck, Kate manages to get her mouth against his and kisses him, hot and sweet and crackling energy between them. "I'm sure. Please, Rick. Show me you still want me."

"Of course I-" He growls, rocking his hips hard into the cradle of her thighs and stroking his tongue inside of her mouth.

They've kissed, and touched, since she was shot. Those first few weeks he seemed terrified to touch her at all, as if his love could ever be anything but a soothing balm to the fire of a bullet in her heart. He's helped her dress, taken baths with her, but he's been overwhelmingly chaste.

Not anymore. She won't let him. "Castle, make love to me. Right here, right now."

"Oh God. Oh Kate." He groans, going for her mouth again and again as if he still can't believe that she's here. Sometimes, neither can she.

Kate fists her hands in the hem of his shirt and draws it slowly upwards, peeling it over his head and tossing it onto the grass. Her father's cabin is isolated, no one else for miles around, so doing this right here on the lawn is all thrill without any danger of actually getting caught.

It feels so wonderful, the warmth of the sun licking over them both, the quiet murmur of the forest at their backs. She has always loved it out here, even though her mother's absence is particularly tangible at the cabin. Kate skims her hands over Castle's bare skin, delighting in the noise he makes when she circles his nipples before she comes up to cup his cheeks, her mouth still hot and feverish against his.

She's wearing a dress, thought it might help with her seduction of him, and Castle breaks their kiss to peel the whole thing up over her head and leave her, squirming below him in just her underwear. There's no shame in it, either thing. Her body or how very much she wants him.

"God, you're so beautiful." He breathes, kissing the puckered circle of skin nestled between her breasts with so much reverence that she could weep. His hands splay at her ribs, wide enough to hold her together and he works his way out from her scar to the peak of her breast, his mouth open wide over her nipple.

His skin is warm under her fingertips and Kate traces the shell of his ear over and over, lets him have as much time as he needs to worship at the font of her breasts. "Castle. Rick. You're beautiful, too."

He laughs, and at least it breaks some of the tension between them. With their fight and then Montgomery's death and then her shooting, they haven't had much of a chance to laugh together recently. But she's dreamed of it, imagined what it would be like to laugh with him in bed until their mirth turned to breathy desire and a gorgeous unmaking of one another.

"You're sure you want to do this outside?" He asks, his fingers hesitant above the line of her underwear.

Smirking, she presses a burst of a kiss to his mouth and pops the button on his pants, dragging down his zipper and slipping her hands inside to palm his ass. "What's the matter? You scared?"

"No." He huffs, his fingers suddenly underneath her underwear even while he pouts like a little boy. The dichotomy of it makes her head spin and she kisses that kicked-puppy look right off of him, pushes his shorts down his hips and waits for him to kick them the rest of the way off.

They're in their underwear, rocking against one another on top of the picnic blanket her family have been using for years and she wants so badly to laugh. Until his fingers curl in the slick heat of her and she gasps, dropping an open mouthed kiss to his neck.

"That feel good, Beckett?" He grins, so god damn smug that she palms him in retaliation. His hips jerk and he growls and all of the arrogance drops right off of his face, leaving behind the man who loves her. "Shit."

Suddenly, her desire opens like a hungry mouth in the pit of her stomach, gnawing at her, and she can't wait anymore. "Rick, it's been four months since I've had you inside me. That is entirely too long."

"Fuck, Kate." He groans, a clumsy mess of limbs as he struggles to free himself of his own underwear and then pulls hers off as well, unhooks her bra and tosses it somewhere over his shoulder. Kate lifts her hips in invitation and he moans, loud and uninhibited at the feeling of her against him.

And then he slides inside of her and she chokes on a gasp, hooking a leg over his thigh to earn herself some leverage and encourage him to just move, damn it. Breathing his name against the edge of his jaw, Kate rocks frantically against him and his hands come to her hips, hold her still.

"Whoa, hey, slow down." He murmurs, kissing her gently and rocking into her so achingly slowly she thinks she might actually just combust right here. "There's no rush. We've got all the time in the world."

She whimpers but lets him have it, lets him set the pace. Their kiss is deep and languid and it sets her alight from the inside outwards, makes her tremble in his arms.

He breaks away from her mouth to press his forehead against hers, smiling down at her as if he can't believe they're really here, doing this. "I'm so glad you didn't die, Kate. So glad."

"Me too." She grins. And then, drawing courage from the feeling of him inside of her, the slow coil of tension already starting low down in her gut, she finds it takes almost nothing at all to just say it. "I love you."

His thrusts get harder, his kiss more desperate and then he reaches down between them, seeking out her clit with two fingers and carrying her right over the edge with him, both of them lost to the haze of pleasure. When she catches her breath again, Kate pushes on his shoulder to roll him off of her and curls up at his side instead, her cheek pillowed on his chest.

"You love me."

"I do." She hums into his skin, kissing the smoothness right over his heart and looping an arm around his waist. Casual, like they do this every day and oh God, they are _going to_. "Castle, I don't know what happens now. With my shooting or my mother's case. I don't know where I go from here. But wherever it is, I want you with me."

"I'm with you. You're not in this alone." He says against the crown of her head, his hand trailing a lazy pattern up and down the column of her spine. The sunlight comes dappled through the widespread fingers of the trees that fringe the edge of her father's property, laying over them both. Their bodies smooth like river stones and the light bathing them and she knows, whatever happens, it will be alright.

* * *

**Thank you for sticking with me in this foray into the fanciful. I hope you've enjoyed reading as much as I did writing it.**

**Tumblr:** katiehoughton

**Twitter:** seilleanmor


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